The Broker
by CrimsonCherryScarlet
Summary: Information is power. Say the right words at the right time and you can spark a war, stop a murder, destroy a life, crush your enemies. A story of love and world domination. (Oc, 1p, 2p, nyotalia, nekotalia… whatever is usable and plot pertinent. Alternative Universe, mafia wars.)


Zaya leaned back on her small couch, adjusting the glasses slowly, pushing them up her nose bridge, eyes narrowed, focusing on the screen of her laptop, slipping strands of ginger hair away from her face, the straight ticklish wisps that escaped the short stubby ponytail at the nape of her neck. There was a message from Vladimir Braginsky. He was demanding a meeting... she hesitated a bit as she re-read the words. Short, carefully placed and leaving her very little leeway.

As an information broker the young woman knew exactly who that man was and had worked for him many times before. Refusing could very well mean her death. But it was after hours, not at her workplace... he had never demanded that of her either. She took a deep slow breath. Might as well see what he wanted without a fuss. He always paid extremely well.

Vladimir was someone out of people's nightmares. The Mafya boss, a man that the gangs, the Mafia, the Yakuza, the Triads and Tongs feared. A Russian man of imposing size, massive shoulders, strong long legs, thick arms, big hands a handsome face, with a strong jaw and a rather prominent nose, short shaggy brown hair and auburn eyes, face almost always set on a cold frown, wearing a black coat with red trim and a thick, long, grey scarf. He was lounging on the club's couch, half drowned in darkness, the sound of the dance floor not quite reaching the area, left alone by everyone, every other occupant of the booths looking away, talking hushed tones, a couple of bottles of vodka on the table. The waitress was also avoiding the area, just glancing occasionally to see if she needed to bring more booze.

"Mr. Braginsky." Zaya called softly, standing in the booth's entrance, holding her bag carefully. There were no men with him that she could see. But she knew he was not alone. Also there was the pipe that rested against the curve of the sofa, in sight for anyone that walked by. He made just a slight gesture, allowing her to sit down next to him, offering a bit of the vodka. Zaya took it, panting as it burned. Not much of a drinker but it would be impolite and maybe dangerous to refuse. There was something else about Vladimir. She felt attracted to him, to his strength. Maybe that was why it had been so easy to convince her own mind to relent, to let her come down, into his territory. "What do you need?"

"Some of my men left." He sated, eyes burning on her in cold appraisal. His voice was low, calm and deep. A shiver slid down her spine, awareness sparking with heat. He rarely spoke. Zaya adjusted the glasses, gulping. They were simple half-moon spectacles trimmed in black metal making her round face and almond-shaped hazel eyes look a bit more serious and mature. Also she couldn't see very well without them.

The tip of her tongue moistened the dry lips, slipping out her custom-made pad out of the bag, opening his private files. As expected she had received a message detailing everything… a few minutes after she entered the Red Widow. Most likely when she was climbing the steel stairs towards the private booths after receiving a scathing look from most of the waitresses due to her jeans, sneakers and baggy hoodie. Not exclusive club worthy they clearly thought.

The trio from the Baltic countries, specialists… they were actually allowed to leave… Vladimir was not as cold hearted as everyone believed but that was his secret, kept in his heart and in the encrypted files that made the not-for-sale section of her knowledge. There was a long silence cut by the sound of the bottle of vodka being downed. Her heart beat fast and hard as she glanced at the unreadable expression, the glass clicking against the table as he let go of the empty bottle and signalled for another.

"I want you to be mine. Exclusive." Vladimir spoke again, the Russian accent purring against her skin harshly in those few syllables. Maybe it was not what he meant by those words but her mind couldn't help but to leap towards another scenario, a more intimate one. She shook her head, closing the files carefully, powering down the pad.

"What would you demand?" Zaya whispered carefully, glancing around. Six of his men. She could see them now, placed on vulnerable areas, ready and prepared for action.

"Loyalty mostly." The Russian said simple, elbows on the table, looming forward, grabbing the new bottle without preamble. The waitress scurried away with a terrified expression. He didn't take a swig yet, staring her in the eyes. She blinked a few times, adjusting the glasses carefully.

"Will you give me time?" the broker asked softly, thinking about what could happen upon refusal. Upon acceptance. Her shivers were not subsiding.

"Da." With that she was dismissed.

Zaya took a deep breath, standing, feeling the pipe against her leg for a briefest moment as she slid out of the booth.

"You will have my answer soon."

* * *

The Russian had broken the balance when he called Zaya and offered her a clear side in their quiet wars.

In their minds if one of _them_ was trying to claim her exclusively the other should have a chance of capture and add an offer too. Or just force her to do what they desired. Whoever had the information broker, someone who was usually neutral, would have an advantage as she would be forbidden to sell the secrets of the faction that protected her while digging everything for their own advantage. No longer hiding a list of information that could tip the balance hard. No longer able to tell them only what they had paid for.

So as soon as the information was leaked to the outside shady world by one of the most unassuming creatures in the Red Widow it was declared a hunt for Zaya and her skills.


End file.
